After All
by JuleznStuffs
Summary: High school is long over. Knots have been tied, bridges have been burned, roles have been reversed. Gossip Girl's blog is an piece of internet's ancient history. But what happened to B, C, N, S, D, and J? This.
1. Dan

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Josh Schwartz & Cecily von Ziegesar

A/N: I plan to do a chapter for the original six, Dan, Jenny, Serena, Blair, Chuck, and Nate. Other characters will be interwoven into their chapters.

* * *

_Dan Humphrey, Brooklyn, age 30_

Dan sat at his desk, staring down at his notebook and chewing at the end of his pencil. He hated writers block, and unfortunately he had it 76% of the time. His half empty coffee was growing cold and probably leaving a ring stain on the papers underneath it, but Dan didn't have room in his mind to care. Because instead of writing a story, the only words he could find in his head were is _name _which he'd written at the top of his paper like he was in school.

He wanted to write again. He wanted the words to flow from his fingers onto the page and to feel _good _about what he was writing. Or bad. Dan really just wanted to feel something along with the writing again.

The phone rang, upsetting the silence in the Brooklyn flat. Dan groaned and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his palms against his eyes. That was probably his dad. Rufus had moved upstate when he and Lily had finally gotten divorced. The retired rock star called his son constantly to check up, and Dan had taken to not answering.

The answering machine beeped and Rufus' voice flooded into the air.

_ "Dan hey, it's me. Listen, I wanted to know if you'd like to come up here this weekend, spend sometime with your old dad. I know I had a...a friend over last time you wanted to come, but I'm completely free now. Hey, maybe-" _The machine cut Rufus off, probably because the machine was full. Dan hadn't erased anything in over a month. He shook his head. The friend that Rufus had at his house three months ago was pretty obviously his ex-wife. When Dan had called he'd heard Lily in the background. His father had quickly hung up, but he was a terrible liar. Dan didn't need or want to know about their convoluted relationship.

He stretched back in his chair, then got up, pouring his old coffee in the sink and putting on a new pot. His flat was considerably bigger than the old one he'd grown up in. With the money Dan had made off his last three books, he was able to afford a lot of things. Technically, he could probably afford something on the Upper East Side. Of course, Dan would never be able to live there morally.

His phone- cell this time- went off vibrating on the wood of the desk Dan had abandoned. He almost dismissed the call- figuring it was probably Rufus again- but a different name flashed across the screen. _Serena_.

He opened the phone, brought it to his ear. "Hello?" he asked hesitantly. He never knew who to expect from that number.

"Daddy!"

"Aimée!" he said, relaxing. His seven year olds voice was better to hear than that of a certain blondes, and he never thought that would be possible. "What's up kiddo?"

She giggled (_like a four year old, _Dan thought, before shaking all thoughts of _tell me why you love me_ from his mind). "I'm sitting, on my couch, and Mommy is trying to cook waffles for us,"

"Is she now?" Dad said, raising an eyebrow.

"Mm hmm, she's trying to prove that she can make waffles as good as you," Aimée said gravely.

"No one makes waffles as good as a Humphrey," Dan told her. "It's a family trait,"

"That's what I told her!" the little girl shouted, causing Dan to hold the phone away from his ear. "But she won't listen!"

Dan closed his eyes as he sat on his couch, and imagined blue eyes and long dark blonde hair on a little girl version of his own face and smiled. She was the perfect combination of him and Serena. "Well next weekend we'll have waffles for dinner, then you can have the best,"

"Waffles for dinner? You're silly Dad,"

"It's- what twelve thirty? Aren't you guys having waffles for lunch?"

"No, Mom says that it's, um...brunch! She says it's brunch,"

Dan rolls his eyes. _Brunch_. He still remembers his first Serena Van Der Woodsen brunch. "Well I hope you have fun with you brunch,"

"Oh we will!" she assures him. "Afterwards we're gonna go see-"  "_Aimée, who're you talking to_?" the faint sound of Serena's voice drifted through the phone.

"Dad, why do you wanna talk to him?" the girl said innocently.

There was a pause then, "_No sweetie, say goodbye and come help me with the waffles_,"

Dan heard his daughter's exaggerated sigh. "Mommy says I have to go,"

"Better do what she says then," Dan allowed, sipping his coffee.

"Are you gonna pick me up from school tomorrow?"

Dan nodded, then realized she couldn't see it. "Yeah, I'll be waiting. Then how about we go out to lunch before coming back to my place to finish your homework?"

"Can we go to your friends old coffee shop?"

Dan laughed at the mention of Vanessa's coffee shop that'd she'd owned after college. Saved up for what had seemed like ever just to buy it. It was under new ownership now- Vanessa had sold it when she moved back to Vermont- and was now a café that Aimée loved. "Sure kid, wherever you want,"

"Yay! Okay Daddy I have to go now Mommy's giving me a look,"

"_I am not_!"

"Okay honey, I love you," Dan said, somewhat sadly, to his daughter.

"Love you too Daddy, bye!"

"Bye,"

Dan heard a squeal right before he hung up the phone, and imagined Serena swooping down a tickling their daughter, the two of them trying to make waffles, getting all messy and ordering room service. He sighed.

Sometimes Dan regretted getting divorced. He'd known Serena since high school, she'd been his love, his muse, his everything.

Now she was just Serena, who lived across the bridge and had the better half of the custody agreement.

They'd gotten married fast, Dan remembered. In Vegas. He smirked at the memory of Serena pulling Blair onto Chuck's private plane to be a witness against cries of, _"I'm not condoning this_!", "_He's going to kill you when he finds out you took the plane_!" and "_Your name is going to be synonymous to Britney's!_".

Three and a half years, and two books later they got divorced.

The first book had been published about a month after their wedding. _Across the Bridge _was the story about a young man named David Henderson, who fell in love with Sabine Valentine, a beautiful, radiant women who came from a world of excess and indulgence that was completely foreign to the man. Dan supposed that maybe he'd been influence by his own life a bit.

_Across the Bridge _had been a huge success, winding up on the New York Times Bestseller List. Dan's name became notable and within the first five months of their marriage, Serena had announced she was pregnant.

Looking back, Dan saw that those three years were probably some of the best of his life. He'd been successful, in love, and had a baby. It was like he'd hit the trifecta. He'd been so happy, he hadn't even cared about living on the UES.

He and Serena had debated over names for months. Dan wanted to name her something simple and classic, like Jennifer, only _not _Jennifer because Dan would not curse his child with being named after his sister. Serena had wanted an exotic name, '_something wild_', she'd said.

In the end, Dan had liked Amy. It meant _loved_ which is what he wanted for his daughter. Serena changed it up a bit, made it French, and they'd ended up with _Aimée Erika Humphrey_.

After she was born, Both Serena and Dan had been in a state of delirious sleep deprived happiness. Dan wrote another book, about a small child who posses the power to bring happiness to all those around her. It never got as popular as his first book, the mystical tone lost some people, but it did well. The three of them were getting along fine, until a couple months after Aimée's second birthday.

Serena had to go away for a week, she'd told Dan, he remembered darkly. Dan stalked back to his desk a flunked down in the chair as he recalled the conversation that took place in the kitchen when it all had happened. He hadn't wanted her to go, but her father was in Italy and wanted to see her. Dan tried to understand, said it was fine for her to go away for a week, that he'd stay in New York with Aimée.

She left in August, and didn't come back until the second week of October.

The months were infused with letters, and texts that came from odd numbers Dan didn't recognize because apparently, Serena accidentally dropped her phone in the water in Venice. She said she was sorry she was taking longer than she'd expected in the letters, give Aimée her love and that's she'd be home in the next week. The texts said things like 'im ok dnt wrry. lv u!'. and gradually shortened to 'im k. srry'.

On October 3rd, the newest issue of a tabloid Serena subscribed to was delivered. Dan flipped through it while Aimée slept, bored and angry, and saw Serena for the first time in months.

She was there, on the glossy pages, her hair mussed, and large smile adorning her face. She wasn't even in Italy. According to the article, she was in France, Nice to be exact. At a party.

Dan had stared at that picture for what seemed like hours, before pulling out his laptop and googling divorce lawyers.

Serena had come back shortly after that, full of apologies, but Dan wouldn't have any of it. He couldn't be with someone who could abandon their child and their life like that.

He started his third while he and Serena were in a custody battle. It was called _The Sun. The Sun _had been hailed by critics as Dan's best work, deeply emotional, an excellent use of literary devices. It was about the sun going dark- an eclipse- and the events that took place in that darkness.

The world had seen the novel as a metaphor for depression.

The first novel had taken years to write, to perfect. Dan had wanted every word to convey his endless love for Serena. The second book had been written every time Dan had a chance to sit down, in a fluster of late nights and too early mornings and baby's coos and cries. The third...Dan had thrown every ounce of himself into _The Sun_. He'd worked night and day and never let himself come up for air. Dan was sort of scared what would happen when he did.

_The Sun _wasn't published until three years after his divorce. He'd written and written and written, and edited and proof read and put every bit of love for Serena he'd had into the book. Now it sat neatly in his bookcase, probably collecting dust, since Dan hadn't read it after it'd been released. The copy he owned was a pure novelty.

Serena had been married once since him. To a photographer for about a year. Then he'd cheated on her with one of his models, who he had declared was his new muse.

"But it's okay though," five year old Aimée had told Dan while chewing on toast. "He was really stupid,". Dan had grinned, tousled her bed head hair, and taken her out for doughnuts.

Dan shook himself out of his memories. It had been a long time since his mind had revisited what had happened with Serena. He looked down, to find his hand grasping a pencil, and the blank page sitting in front of him.

Suddenly, the words came. They appeared as if they'd always been there.

And Dan Humphrey began to write again.


	2. Blair

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to Josh Schwartz & Cecily von Ziegesar

A/N: The next chapter will probably either be Jenny or Nate. Enjoy Blair!

* * *

Blair Cornelia Waldorf graduated from Columbia when she was twenty two as valedictorian for her class. She'd transferred there her junior year, stating that she had wanted to attend NYU to expose herself to different cultures, and though she had accomplished that, she now felt it would be more academically responsible to attend a higher caliber university.

After she got her bachelors degree in business, Blair packed up and finally achieved her dream of attending Yale. She enrolled in their law school, and in two years was back in New York City, a lawyer who within her first week out of school was employed on the legal team of Bass Industries, one of the most successful companies in the world.

Of course, it might have helped that she was sleeping with the boss.

That was six years ago. Now Blair lounged on a private Caribbean beach, sunglasses shielding her face from the harsh sunlight and listening solely to the sound of the waves and tiny shouts. "This is not Christmas," she muttered.

"You're right," a voice beside her answered, "That was two days ago,"

Blair flipped over onto her side, carefully perching her sunglasses atop her head, and glaring at a smirking Chuck Bass. "You know what I mean. Christmas _time _is supposed to have firs not palms,"

"I know. That's why we spent Christmas in the city at your insistence. _This_ is New Years," said Chuck, who had not removed his Ray Bans, or even opened his eyes.

They _had_ spent Christmas in New York, Blair recalled fondly. The tallest Christmas tree she'd ever had adorned their living room. Lights and garland and candy canes had filled the extravagant townhouse, and Nate had noted how it looked like Christmas had exploded in their home (in an extremely tasteful and elegant way, he'd quickly added). Chuck had insisted on putting mistletoe up in their room, meeting only minor objections from Blair.

"Still," Blair huffed. Chuck let out a small laugh. "_Chuck Bass_, this is not funny! We are having an argument!"

"Bickering," he corrected her, pushing himself up by his elbows and looking at her over the rim of his ridiculous red wayfarers. "And yes it is funny," he murmured as he leaned in to kiss her.

A loud petulant "Ew!" broke off the beginnings of a make out session. Blair and Chuck's heads both whipped around to the source.

Four year old Dorian Bass stood at the base of his parents towels, a small pail overflowing with sand in one hand, a shovel in the other. His face was twisted in disgust. "You two are gonna get cooties," he said.

"Your mother doesn't have cooties," Chuck told him, while Blair's eyes quickly searched for, and found, her other child, who was just out of reach of the waves, staring at the clear ocean water gravely.

"Dorian what did I tell you about leaving your brother alone?" Blair arched an eyebrow. Her older child rolled his eyes, exactly the way she did which she still found slightly disconcerting.

"Thad's fine, he won't even touch the water," Dorian said dismissively. "Will you come help me build a sandcastle?" he asked his father.

Blair saw Chuck glance at her before turning to his son and nodding easily, pushing himself to his feat. "Sure, what do you want me to-"  The little boy grinned, pushing the handle of the pail into his father's hand.

"First you carry the sand, then I need you to help me dig a _big _moat- bigger than _you_!- then I want to build a really, really big castle, only really it's gonna be a hotel- like yours- and we're gonna call it _The Castle _and charge sand crabs ten dollars to night to stay there and-"

Blair smirked as she watched Dorian pull a bemused Chuck behind him, down to the shoreline. She got up herself, walking down the the waters edge and wrapping her arms around her younger son. "Want to go in the water with me?" she asked Thaddeus. He shook his head violently. "Why not?"

"Water scawy," he said in a two-year-old's dialect. "S'got shawrks and jellies dat _sting_,"

"Who told you that?"

"Dowian,"

Blair shot a look over to where the boy in question was excitedly showing Chuck a pile of seaweed he'd collected. "Dorian was wrong,"

"Nu-uh," Thad insisted. "He knows _evewything_. He can wead now_,"_

Blair shook her head. "Daddy chose this beach because it doesn't have sharks or jellyfish or other people on it," she told her son. "And if I come in the water with you nothing can get you,"

Thad screwed up his face, as if weighing his options. "Pwomise?"

Blair nodded, holding his tiny hand, and leading him barefooted into the small waves lapping at the shore. Thad squealed when the water hit his feet. "S'cold!"

"And wet," Blair agreed. Another wave rolled in, splashing against their feet. "When the next wave comes," she told Thad, recalling a game she a Serena used to play in the Hamptons, "You jump over it okay?"

Thad nodded. The wave approached, and right before it could hit his toes, Thad jumped, coming down with a splash. He giggled. "It got you wet Mommy!"

Water droplets clung to Blair's legs and she nodded. "Water will do that,"

"S'like a big, big bathtub!" Thad declared. "Wit sea gulls stead of duckies!"

And all Blair could do was laugh and agree and avoid the slimy sea weed.

____

The sun had almost set, when Thad curled up on Blair's lap, a large blanket wrapped around both of them. They were sitting next to a large sandcastle that had taken most of the afternoon to construct. Intricate little doors and windows, and shells and sand dollars adorned the walls of the castle, which stood only a little shorter than Thaddeus. Large palm leaves lined the entryway, and around it, Chuck was almost finished digging a moat that was as about three feet deep.

"Are you planning on helping me dig your moat?" Chuck asked Dorian wryly.

Dorian shook his head, taking a sticky bite out of one of the marshmallows that they'd all made together earlier. "I co-co- Mommy what's the word?"

"Commissioned?" Blair guessed.

"_Commissioned_ it," Dorian told his father smugly. "And now I'm supervising,"

Chuck looked at his son. "Oh yeah? How are you planning to pay me?

Dorian thought for a moment, before holding up his half finished marshmallow. "In these!" he declared. "I'll make them for you!"

"Marshmallows?" Chuck's face contorted. "You set the last one you made on fire,"

"But Daddy," the boy said innocently, "I heard you tell Mom that you like it hot,"

"Chuck!" Blair buried her face into Thad's shoulder.

Her husband concealed a laugh. "That," he said, "Was about coffee. Nothing is better than hot coffee,". He then turned back to digging.

"Mommy?" Thad asked. She looked down at him. "Are we gonna stay fowever?"

"No honey, this is just vacation,"

"Oh," he yawned, blinking tiredly. "Are we gonna come back?"

"There!" Chuck interrupted, packing down the last bit of sand. "It's done,"

Dorian inspected the moat, squinting at it, pinching sand and rubbing it between his fingers. Then he looked up at Chuck, a grin brimming on his face. "You did it!" he squealed latching himself onto his father's legs, hugging them tightly. "It's perfect, it's the perfect sandcastle!"

Chuck pulled Dorian up into his arms grinning. Blair laughed. "Where'd you even get the idea for a sandcastle?" she said to Dorian as he strangled Chuck with his embrace. He let go, twisting around to look at his mother.

"Aimée said that she and Aunt Serena make them when they go to the Hamptons," he told her. "And she said that I couldn't make a good one cause I was to little and said that any castle I made wouldn't be as good as hers and I said 'nu-uh' and then she _laughed _at me," he pouted. "But I saw pictures and hers aren't _half_ as good as mine," said Dorian mtter-of-factly, then he blinked, and a look of realization dawned on his face. "Oh Mommy, Mommy, take a picture of me and Dad and the castle! _Pleeease_?"

Blair pulled her camera out of her bag, and snapped a picture of the two by their masterpiece. Then Chuck lifted a squealing Thad onto his shoulders and Blair held Dorian's hand as they walked back up to their beach house, water trickling into the moat behind them.

____

After both kids were asleep, Blair crawled into bed besides Chuck. "They asleep?" he asked her. She nodded.

"You're doing it tomorrow. Dorian insisted on sleeping with the scarf you got him," she told Chuck, as she leaned on his shoulder. He smirked. "And Thaddeus wants to know if we are going to come back,"

"Are we?"

Blair looked up at him. "You've already put a down payment on the place haven't you?" she said, resignedly.

"Well I have everything lined up to do so," he said. "If my loving wife gives the okay,"

"Okay,"

A look of excitement overcame Chuck's face. "Really?"

"Well the kids love it, it's private, there's no paparazzi, it was nice to get away from all the tourists that flood New York for New Years, and-"

Chuck kissed her, flipping her over so she was on top of him. "I love you," he said.

Blair smiled. "I love you too,". She dropped a kiss onto his lips, as his hand caressed her leg. "Remember our honeymoon?" she murmured between kisses.

"Tuscany?" Chuck said distractedly, trailed his lips down her neck. "Yeah,"

"We should go there...again," Blair tried to concentrate. "Without Dorian or Thad,"

"Remember where I said we should have our wedding reception?" Chuck asked. "We should go _there_ without the kids,"

"As if I'd let my children into Victrola," Blair answered him. "And the wedding was fine at the Palace,"

Chuck flipped her back over, onto her back. "When we go to Victrola, you should dance again," he said, lowering his lips to her skin.

"You really think I'd do that?"

"Oh, I _know_ you'll do it," he smirked.

"Chuck-"

He growled. "No more talking,"


End file.
